


Take The Moon

by Chummy



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Other, Ranboo & TommyInnit Friendship (Video Blogging RPF), Tommys resurrection, hes apart of the sbi, theyre friends your honor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 13:34:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30039459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chummy/pseuds/Chummy
Summary: “Whatcha writing?” Tubbo asks, voice low as if not to wake the man who wasn’t sleeping next to him. It’s appreciated anyways.“Oh uh,” Ranboo stutters, the whites of his face bloom purple and Techno smiles, silent giving Ranboo the space to fill. “Just writing about Tommy, I don’t want to forget.” His words trail off into a whisper, they hang in the air.
Relationships: Ranboo & Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Ranboo & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Comments: 5
Kudos: 182
Collections: Completed stories I've read





	Take The Moon

**Author's Note:**

> hi, lol. 
> 
> This is basically my uh, prediction of the plot. Dreams master plan. 
> 
> this fits in my claustrophobia verse that fits into my sbi verse but i didn’t wanna make it a series cause u don’t need to read it to read this one, but u know, it’s how i picture or in my head so for some context, un techno never killed tubbs in this lol. theyre a FAMILY YOUR HONOR.

_Then maybe I will see you in the night I’ll see you._

His face stings. Burning and aching as sharp wind whips past his cheeks. He doesn’t know where he’s going, where he’s _running_ or what he’s running from. But the cold fear in his veins chills more than the snow and ice around him.

_He knows these snowy mountains. Knows the white powdered trees. It terrifies him, why does it terrify him?_

He can’t remember. He can’t remember. He can’t _remember._

It’s a shock when he falls, soft snow melting into water in his palms, stinging as it trails across his multicolored skin. 

_It’s red, the water runs red._ _He doesn’t bleed red._ _Whose blood is this?_

His chest heaves as he panics, as he shakes, as he hisses around the pain of water soaking into his clothes, at the tears that fall and chill on his cheeks. 

_Whose blood is this?_

He can’t remember. He can’t remember. He can’t remember.

Fingernails dig into already searing palms, trying to ground himself, looking for purchase in the scattered memories of his mind. 

Metal glints against sparkling snow. 

A ring. 

Made of precious stone, durable, obviously handled with _care._

It’s sharp, the memory that tears itself to the forefront of his mind, burning behind his eyes. 

_Freckled smiles. Forest green sweaters. Auburn curls and horns bright against white blue snow._

“No!” He gasps, he pleads, _nobody listens._ “no no no no.” A grating whisper, the wind silences him. 

He doesn’t remember.

The blood on his hands is no longer warm, caked in snowflakes embedded in his skin. 

_Eyes of brilliant diamonds. Laughs like a storming sea. Golden crown of hair. Allium flowers._

He shakes, from the cold, from the pain, from the memories.

He doesn’t remember. 

_A smile. A smile. A smile. A smile. He’s smiling. An unmoving mouth and yet he hears him speak. A nightmare._

“Please,” his jaw aches as he begs. The snow offers no comfort. He thinks it might’ve once. 

_The smell of gunpowder. Alarms making his ears ring. Black bricks beneath his fingers._

_A smile._

_A sword, heavy in his hand. He doesn’t know how to use it. It doesn’t matter. He watches his arm swing. There’s blood, blood, blood._

_A smile._

He gags on nothing. He doesn’t know when he ate last. How long he’s been running, _from what._

He doesn’t _want_ to remember. 

A book burns a hole through the satchel at his back. He breathes the harsh winter air, relishing in the blistering in his lungs, on his skin. His mind fades to nothingness. Blurry spots of black. 

Ranboo doesn’t want to remember.

So he continues to run. 

-

_Warmth. Familiar and almost distant. It’s been a while since he felt this warm. He leans into it, in the darkness behind his eyelids, humming, satisfied._

_“-re you waking up?”_

_The voice sounds faraway, yet almost like it’s in his head. He smiles without realizing. He’s so warm. He knows that voice. He’s missed that voice._

_“Bud, hey, wake up.”_

_Is he asleep? He can’t remember falling asleep. He doesn’t wanna wake up. This is a nice dream. He melts more into the comfort he’s wading in._

_“He really is at peace huh?” A different voice, gravelly and laughing. It’s familiar, it’s not as comforting._

_“Shut the fuck up.”_

_He almost giggles, he doesn’t know why, it simply felt right. Natural._

_“Did I take this long to come too?” The familiar voice asks._

_“No, you were kinda panicked remember?” Another voice answers, he knows that one too. He feels the fringes of reality lick across his limbs, phantom and distant. It’s as if he’s returning to his body, one fingernail at a time._

_“Do you have any sevens?” the rough voice asks._

_“I’m a bit busy dickhead.”_

_He giggles then, the warmth lingers._

_“You can just say go fish.”_

_“Go fish and shove it up your ass!”_

_He can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of him. An unrestrained happiness he can’t remember feeling._

_“Tommy!” The word tumbled out, his tongue used to the weight of_ **_his_ ** _name on his tongue, he’s smiling. There’s a soft gasp. He can feel his eyelashes across his cheeks, his eyes open slowly._

_It’s Tommy. He’s looking up at him from where his head lays on his lap. Tommy stares down. He smiles and smiles, he thinks his cheeks are about to split open. It’s Tommy. He’s missed Tommy._

_“Tommy! Where have you been!?” Tubbo asks. Yes that’s his name. Why couldn’t he remember his name before. Why does Tommy look so sad? “Tommy?”_

_Tommy’s colors are muted. Notable baby blues a dull gray, hair lost its gold appeal, pale. Ghostly. Tommy shakes his head a bit. The hand on his shoulder squeezes, the one running through his hair pauses._

_Tubbo watches wide eyed as a shadow slowly comes into view behind him. Placing a gloved hand on the dull red of Tommy’s shirt._

_“Wilbur?” He whispers, shocked. Wilbur smiles, it’s friendly, Tubbo can't remember the last time he looked like that._

_“Hey kid.” He greets, running a semi translucent hand through Tommy’s blond locks. Tommy is still looking at him. There’s a warm hand laying on his chest. Realization sinks with it._

_A sword running through his chest. Tearing through his back. It was fast. A simple blink into darkness. He can’t remember feeling pain. One moment he simply was and then he simply wasn’t._

_“Am I dead?” He asks, he knows the answer. His fingers are cold and see through._

_Tommy only nods. Clutching onto the fabric of his shirt. There’s grief in his eyes, sinking into the depths of his soul. Tubbo understands, as he was only grieving for Tommy a few days before._

_He smiles. Soft and heavy._

_“I’ve missed you,” He tells Tommy, turning to lay with his head facing Tommy’s stomach. Tommy wheezes on a cry. Can ghosts cry? They are ghosts now right?_

_“I missed you too.” Tommy whispers back. Tubbo closes his eyes._

_He feels nothing._

_There’s peace in that._

_-_

It’s Techno who finds his body. 

They’d decided to stick together, to mourn Tommy together. The ride back to Techno’s was a quiet one. 

It had only been a few days. Barely a week. Techno hadn’t slept and his father was no better. 

_At least the kids are sleeping._ He had stood watch, fingers clawing at wood to keep from cries falling from his lips as he watched the rise and fall of Tubbo’s chest and remembered the blonde head of hair that would peek out of the covers next to him. 

They sat and ate breakfast together. Techno watched as Ranboo planted flowers for Tommy. How he walked through the house that already knows him as if he was afraid of taking up Tommy’s space. Techno could almost laugh. Almost.

Tommy always managed to take up all the space in a room. He made it brighter. Sometimes he was hard to look at. Techno would give the world to see him again. 

At night they gather around Phil’s bed. He hasn’t moved much since they got back home. His father grieves in silence, in the darkness of his room, in the quiet of meals Techno brings him, together as they sit and tell stories until Phil rolls over. 

Techno likes to think it helps. He doesn’t know. Grief is difficult to maneuver, it isn’t faced with battle techniques and sharpened weapons. 

“Oh! Remember when we went sledding Tech?” Tubbo pipes up, whisper loud in the quiet room. He’s curled up behind his fathers wings, a small hand carding through them, a habit he picked up from all the childhood sleepovers. Techno sits at the foot of the bed with a fidgeting Ranboo, Techno offers him a smile. 

“You mean when we told you not to go cause the slopes were too steep and you two went anyways?” Techno huffs. Remembering all the shenanigans the two always got up too. 

“I knew it’d be fine! Tommy was good at sledding, better than me at least,” Tubbo sighs and Phil nods slightly, sinking into the memory. 

“Was he really?” Ranboo asks, filling the empty space. His voice still wavers as if he’d be struck for simply asking, Techno settles more of his weight into the bed. 

“Yeah! Phil taught him and then Techno taught me! But Techno isn’t as patient,” Tubbo says around a laugh and Techno reaches a hand out to tickle across Tubbo’s calves, who kicks and laughs lightly. 

The room fills with the sound of rustling paper followed by the scratch of ink. Techno looks toward Ranboo, who is writing diligently in his book. He’s been doing it a lot more lately. 

“Whatcha writing?” Tubbo asks, voice low as if not to wake the man who wasn’t sleeping next to him. It’s appreciated anyways. 

“Oh uh,” Ranboo stutters, the whites of his face bloom purple and Techno smiles, silent giving Ranboo the space to fill. “Just writing about Tommy, I don’t want to forget.” His words trail off into a whisper, they hang in the air. 

Techno’s eyes sting for the millionth time that day, reminding him of the hollow space in his heart where his two brothers once lay. He can’t imagine forgetting them, despite the pain. The grief. Their memory is seemingly all he has left. 

“That’s sweet of you,” he says, voice rough with feeling. He moves slowly, bones aching with phantom pain, laying next to Tubbo in the bed, snaking an arm beneath him to grip onto the material of his fathers shirt. 

Tubbo raises his head, gestures for Ranboo to join them, not leaving a room for argument; he squeezes the tall boy between him and Phil. 

“Tommy would be happy you’re writing about him,” Tubbo whispers, Techno tightens his fingers in his fathers shirt. “Thanks ‘Boo.” 

Ranboo mumbles, lost for words in the sentimentality of it all, Techno’s chest rumbles with a soft laugh at it, reaching a hand over to pat at his two toned hair. Bringing it down to do the same to Tubbo, who bumps his forehead on Techno’s palm. 

“Goodnight boys,” comes a tired whisper from Phil. It’s the first words he'd said all day. Techno sinks into the crowded mattress, settling in for another sleepless night. 

It’d only been a few days since then. 

His body stains the snow around him crimson. Freezes his fingers and skin a crystalline blue. There’s snowflakes caught on his eyelashes, his eyes that were open in shock. He’s so cold to touch. Just like Tommy had been.

Techno thinks he’s just dreaming. Techno hopes he’s just dreaming, but after the tenth time of blinking and shaking his head to the same outcome, it sinks in. Heavy and burning in the pits of his stomach. Anguish. 

His ears ring as he yells for his father. He only knows he’s yelling because his throat feels raw from use. Tubbo is lifeless and cold in his arms as he takes him inside.

The gash on his chest fills with bloodied snowflakes. It seeps into his clothes, onto the floorboards, Tubbo looks up at the ceiling with unseeing brown eyes. 

He’s gone. Still he presses his hands against the wound and holds it. He’s gone. Just like Tommy. Before he can do anything about it. His fingers are cold against frozen skin. It makes him want to gag. 

It’s Phil’s shaking hands that wrap around his own rusted ones. They’re warmer, Techno chokes a sob. His head swims with tears and distantly he registers his father speaking to him. 

“Techno, what happened?” _cautious._ Asked with worry, bracing for something to blow. Techno wants to laugh, bitter and harsh as he remembers all the times his father asked him the same question. Moments when he’d come too, hazy and bloodied and tired and head full of voices that _weren’t his._

“I didn’t do this,” he snaps, seethes. He stares at the body beneath him, the face of a boy he watched grow up, that he cared for like he cared for his brothers. Phil sighs, his shoulders shake.

“I know son, tell me what happened,” Phil states and Techno can’t bare to look at him, can’t bare to look at blue eyes that look too much like _Tommy’s_ while he holds Tubbo’s _corpse_ in his hands. 

“I found him,” He says around a trembling gasp. “I found him. He said he was gonna look at the horses. I went to check.” Techno doesn’t know how many minutes had passed since Tubbo had thrown his whereabouts to Techno over his shoulder. It couldn’t have been much. “He was just laying there.” 

Phil nods, grim and looking just as dead as the body beneath them. “And Ranboo?” 

Techno freezes, as if he was the one that’d been laying in the snow. He hadn’t thought to check, overcome with heartbreak. He didn’t even know if he was in danger. Techno doesn’t notice when he starts to shake, but fingers clenching around his palms bring him back.

“I don’t know dad, I-,” He’s cut off as if his lungs collapse, it feels like that at least. Phil gives another nod, a pat to his hair as he rises and walks past him, picking up his sword from its holder by the door. Techno notices one is missing, his father catches it too.

“Stay here,” Phil says and Techno doesn’t have the energy to argue. So he stays, watches his fathers retreating back, his hands stay on Tubbo’s chest. Tubbo stares at nothing. 

It feels like ages until he hears his father return. Ages spent staring at Tubbo’s paling face hoping with each blink he’d wake up from this nightmare. He never does. The door swings shut behind him, letting a gust of cold air through, passing through the loose strands of his hair. 

He kneels next to Techno, body heavy with the past week. There’s a sigh holding his lungs together, holding his bones together, keeping his skin from falling apart. They sit in silence, Techno waits for the worst. 

“He’s not here.” Phil says. Broken and tired.

“What?” He breathes, the blood has stopped spreading, Tubbo never woke up. 

“He’s gone Tech.”

“Did you check his-“

“Panic room? Yes. There’s no trace of him,” it sounds like a lie, but Techno doesn’t have the energy, doesn’t know if he ever will, he just waits. His knees ache as the wood bites into it. He’s never gonna be able to get the stains out. 

“Just this,” his father whispers and Techno doesn’t know how to prepare, to brace, for what’s coming. He looks toward him, who’s holding a familiar book in his hands. 

“His book?”

“One of them.” One of them, how many did he have? 

Techno’s hands feel like lead as he reaches for the book. The leather beneath his fingers is warm. He holds his breath as he opens the book. 

It’s Ranboo’s that’s for sure. It’s his messy scrawl, the first couple pages just recollections of the day he had. Techno bites his cheek when he reads over Tommy’s name, immortalizing moments between them in the pages. He’s about half way through when his blood freezes. 

Messy scrawl becomes unreadable, ink blotches of fingerprints and spills and tears in the binding where other pages must’ve been. Some are completely empty, others are too full. 

He turns a page and nearly drops the book completely, only his dad's grip on his elbow keeps him from flinging it across the room. His fingers shake across the edges of the page as he takes it in.

A smile.

**:)**

Over and over and over and over again. From top to bottom, back to front. For pages and pages and pages. when it isn’t a smile it’s incoherent phrases, begging, apologies, near prayers of incomprehensible mumblings. 

_“What do your voices sound like?” Hed asked, absentminded._

_“It’s one voice, actually.” He had sounded so scared._

_“Oh just one? Is it yours?” Techno had kept walking._

_“It’s Dreams.”_

“No,” he pleads, hands shaking and trembling. “God no.” His fathers hands come around his shoulders and pull him into his body. Techno breaks completely. It’s all he can do, completely helpless in everything else. 

He sobs as his father holds him, as he collapses against him fully. He thinks if he has the strength to do it again, to bury another one of his brothers? His _littlest_ one? 

He doesn’t and yet, he has no choice. 

The house is silent. Death permeates every pore of their being. They dress Tubbo in blues and green, comb through his hair and polish his ring, settle his compass over his heart. It points west, where Tommy’s grave lies. 

_Even in death,_ he muses. _Even in death they find each other._ It’s a heartbreaking comfort. Like everything nowadays. 

Phil writes out the letter of Tubbo’s death with shaking, fatigued hands, sending it off on a raven into a fading sunset.

They mark the spot for his grave, next to Tommy’s flower filled one. They don’t have time to dig, to mourn, not properly, as the sun sets and Ranboo gets farther and farther away. 

“Do you think we can find him?” He asks his dad, who’s wings ruffle and Techno knows he must wish more than ever that they weren’t damaged. 

“We will,” _Alive, hopefully_ is unsaid. Techno really doesn’t think he can take much more of anyone dying. 

They set off into the snow, holding themselves together, knowing they’ll never be warm like before again. 

-

_Inside Pandora’s Box there’s laughter, unrestrained pure joy. The Warden can only listen._

-

The moon stares down at him from its perch amongst the stars. His bones hurt, his skin burns, he’s walking because he can’t run anymore but he can’t stop. 

Ranboo doesn’t know where he is. How long he’s been going. Where was he even running from? 

He wants to go home. 

_Home._ Why does his heart twist when he thinks about it.

The vision is hazy, snowy roofs and smoking chimneys, warmth and comfort, sparkling golds and deep blues. It’s home, he knows it’s home, deep in his bones and yet, he _can’t_ go back to it.

He’s lost and confused and terrified to the tips of his fingers. He stops beneath a tree, sinking and curling his limbs around his knees, cradling his head as memories swirl to the forefront of his mind.

He runs his hands through sweaty hair, stiff from the ice and dirt. Strands catch across the band on his finger, he stares at the softly glinting metal, two toned eyes staring back at him.

_“Look now they won’t melt!” Tubbo was smiling, cheek to cheek, holding the precious metal ring out to Ranboo, who leaned down to look at it. “The gold ones would have melted easily.”_

_Ranboo smiles, slipping it on, laughing as Tubbo taps his hands across Ranboo’s to make the matching jewelry click against each other._

His nails cut into the meat of his palm as pain spirals behind his eyes. 

_Tubbo._

_Tubbo bleeding at his feet, shocked dead eyes staring at nothing, wheezing iron tinted breaths, he had opened his mouth to talk, Ranboo hadn’t heard him._

“No,” he whispers, biting into his lip. “That’s a lie.” It has to be, it has to be, it has to be. 

“Yes,” A voice answers him, Ranboo freezes, a shadow blocks the moonlight in front of him, Ranboo can’t breathe. 

“Hi Boo!” Dream greets, he’s smiling, like he always is. 

Ranboo slams into the bark behind him, scrambling to get away making Dream laugh at his efforts, Ranboo can feel it crawling on his skin.

“You’re not h-here,” Ranboo gasps, clutching to the fabric that clings to him, trying to ground himself. “You’re in prison.” 

“Am I?” Dream says, swooping down to look into Ranboo’s eyes. The mask smiles and smiles, Ranboo feels sick. “I’m always with you, because that’s what best friends do.

Ranboo wants to scoff but it gets stuck in his throat, halted by fear, he can only shake his head, muscles sore. 

“Hey,” Dream says. Ranboo shuts his eyes, squirming against the darkness but would rather not see Dream. “Hey, look at me Ranboo.” He’s shaking, trembling all over.

“I said _look_ at me,” Ranboo can’t see it but he knows it said through a sneer, a smile of too much teeth. He presses his hands against his eyes, refusing, wishing everything would go away. 

He jumps when he feels hands come around his, they are rough, battle worn and heavy, He chokes around a scream, around a plea to just _leave him alone._ But the hands are peeling Ranboo’s own gingerly, tenderly, with more care than Dream is capable of.

“Ranboo,” Its not Dreams voice, it doesn’t make him feel any better. 

He opens his eyes to pink hair tinted dark by the nighttime, blonde eyes looking down at him in worry. He wants to melt with relief. 

“Hey kid, you with us?” Techno says, and the caring way he says it is too much for Ranboo to bear. He doesn’t deserve this, he doesn’t deserve their kindness, the way they look at him with so much concern. 

Ranboo stares at his blood crusted hands in Techno’s own and flinches as if the touch scorned him. 

“No please, I don’t want this,” his voice is hoarse from exertion, his arms tremble as he tries to push himself to stand. Techno’s hands reach out to stable him, Ranboo doesn’t want them on him. He remembers too clearly what he’s running from, _what he’s done._

He doesn’t want to remember. 

The pure exhaustion in his body is the only thing that keeps him planted on the ground, as his mind scrambles to get away from its current reality. 

“It’s okay,” Phil’s soothing voice comes through, Ranboo can hear the broken way the syllables pass through his lips. 

_It’s not okay, nothing has ever been okay,_ he wants to scream.

“It wasn’t your fault Ranboo, it’s okay,” Techno tries and Ranboo wants to disappear because _how_ can they say that to him? 

“I killed him,” he wheezed, eyes shutting around scorching tears, remembering the gasp of pain that tumbled out of Tubbo’s lips. “I killed him I killed him I killed him!” His throat hurts in harmony to all the pain in his body. 

“You didn’t, it wasn’t you,” Phil sounds so tired and Ranboo can’t blame them. What a nightmare they were living. “It wasn’t you, no one blames you.”

“Come on, it’s cold on here let’s go home,” Techno offers his hand again, slowly to not spook him and Ranboo wants to melt into it but he won’t allow himself that. Murderers don’t deserve that. 

“Please,” He whispers, daring to look at Techno’s red rimmed eyes. “Just kill me please.”

Phil sucks in a breath next to Techno whose hand minutely shakes at the words. 

It’s quiet then, except for the labored breathing amongst the three of them. The stars stare down at three broken figures. Ranboo wants everything to stop, even the silence is too suffocating.

Phil moves first, bringing his hands to Ranboo’s elbow. His palms are warm, Ranboo starts to cry. 

“I will not lose another son today,” Phil says, there are no tears in his eyes, he doesn’t have the energy to spare for crying. “Let’s go Ranboo.” He leaves no room for argument, and Ranboo is too exhausted to put up a fight. Still he shakes his head, sobbing softly as he struggles a bit in Phil’s grasp.

“You’re okay Ranboo,” Techno says, draping his own cape across his shoulders. “It’s gonna be okay.” 

He knows Techno doesn’t believe the words himself. 

His legs shake as he climbs up on Techno’s horse, he stares at the footprints they leave behind them in the snow. 

-

“So how’d ya die?” Schlatt’s crass voice calls out to them. Tubbo had been laying across Tommy in silence, neither boy ready to break the soft silence between them, as if the other would disappear along with it. 

Tommy makes a sputtering sound and Tubbo doesn’t have to open his eyes to know his hands are flailing. 

“You really are the worst, you know that?” Tommy throws back, setting a hand on one of Tubbo’s horns, pointedly looking away from Schlatt’s own. 

“I've been told,” Schlatt answers, a small smile on his face. Tommy scoffs, Wilbur chuckles next to him. 

“Really though, do you not remember?” Wilbur asks, more gentle but Tommy still elbows him. Tubbo shifts slightly in his grasp, moving instead to sit next to him. 

“Not really, just bits and pieces,” Tubbo replies, shrugging. “Why? Do you?” 

“Now I do yeah, slowly my memories started to come back, couldn’t keep the whole being killed by your dad thing repressed forever,” Wilbur smiles and it’s too reminiscent of the crazed smiles he used to give them. 

Tommy says nothing. Tubbo feels his chest tighten. He lays a hand across Tommy’s own, playing with his fingers, watching the way light glints _through_ their skin. 

“Not a lot of consistency with this whole being dead shit huh?” Tommy says, voice a bit strained, eyes foggy with memories. 

“You’ve always been a special case Tom,” Wilbur says, patting his head. “Still this is kinda abrupt, you two really can’t be apart it seems.” 

Tubbo smiles a bit at that, Tommy pinches one of his fingers. There’s no real pain, Tubbo complains anyways. 

“Oh what’s that?” Tommy asks, tapping along his finger, a soft metallic chime echoing around them. Tubbo looks down to his fingers, where a ring lay. 

“Oh,” he says, squinting at the jewelry. His head fills with fuzzy feelings of happiness at the sight, still he can't place it. “That’s new.” 

Tommy hums. “We should’ve gotten rings.” Tubbo smiles, looking at the necklace that hangs heavy with a shining emerald on Tommy’s chest. Cut from the same stone that Techno and Phil wear in their own jewelry. Tubbo can't see if Wilbur wears his through the gloves on his hands. 

“I wonder how Phil’s doing,” Tubbo says softly, nearly absentmindedly. Tommy stills only for a second before nodding along. 

“Was he okay?” Tommy asks, Tubbo doesn’t need him to clarify but he wishes he could give him a clearer answer instead of the sheepish smile on his face.

“It’s all really fuzzy,” He replies, blinking slowly as he tries to piece things together. 

“So what do you remember?” Wilbur asks instead, Tubbo sighs, leans his head against Tommy’s shoulder, who pokes at his cheek because his horn digs into his shoulder. 

“Hmmm,” he starts, “Tommy, a lot of Tommy. Techno and you, sleeping over at your house. I remember Phil’s pancakes, they were better than my dads.”

“And do you remember him? Your father?” Wilbur presses and Tommy throws a glare his way. Behind them Schlatt coughs. 

Tubbo shakes his head. “Not really, he was happy though. I think.”

“I remember Manburg, winning the war. There’s a lot of people, a lot of names I can’t remember.”

“What a president can’t even remember names,” Tommy jokes and Tubbo blinks owlishly at him.

“I was president?” he asks, he doesn’t remember that. “Was I any good?”

Tommy eyes go slightly hazy, downcast in the most minute way before lighting up completely. “You were literally the best Tubbs.” 

Tubbo smiles despite the slight feeling of disbelief at Tommy’s words, he continues combing through scattered memories. 

“Everything goes all foggy after that until,” Tubbo pauses, squinting against the memories pulsing in his eyes. “We fight Dream again.” 

Tommy goes still once more and Wilbur sighs. 

“You win against Dream yes,” Wilbur finishes for Tubbo and Tommy exhales a shivering breath. 

“We won,” Tubbo repeats, feeling the words on his tongue but not tasting them. Slowly, grief bubbles to the surface, remembering the day they got the news of Tommy’s death, the first vivid unkind memory. They won. But Tommy still died. At his mercy. By his hand. Short lived victory. He turns to Tommy again, seeming to actually look at him for the first time since he woke up. He raises his hands slowly, barely shifting the air around them as he lays pale hands across paler cheeks. He doesn't like how dull Tommy looks, he was meant to be bright, shining enough to bring greater suns to envy, 

Tommy breathes in, settles softly into the meat of Tubbo’s palm, settling all of his phantom weight in his hands. Tubbo wants to smile, his eyes feel teary, his chest feels heavy. 

_Did it hurt? Dying?_ He wants to ask. 

“Do you remember it all?” He asks instead, cupping Tommy’s face, staring at the features he already committed to memory long ago. 

“All of it,” Tommy huffs, dry and scorned. Tubbo can only look, as Tommy forces a smile, as he sucks air into his ghostly lungs. _Do they even need to breathe anymore?_ It seemed more force of habit than anything. “I’m just that special Tubbs.” 

Tubbo spares a laugh, it’s short and heavy, Tommy seems to appreciate it anyways. It’s in the small forced smile that his memory sparks. _Familiar_. 

_Multicolored eyes with skin and hair to match, he remembers fussing with it whenever he could reach it. Long spindly fingers, bitten raw and red, a matching ring. Small smiles that bloomed to wide laughter. Teardrop shaped scars and the feel of them beneath his fingers._

“Ranboo.” It’s a breath, a puff of air escaping past his teeth. Tommy smiles again in between his palms, sinking more into his limbs until his cheeks squish against the sad smile on his lips. 

“He’s your friend,” Tommy says, bittersweet and slow. Tubbo blinks.

_Multicolored eyes staring through him, unblinking and scared. Canines bared around a restrained growl, lip curled over a twisted smile. The feel of hot tears falling onto his cheeks. Streaks of red across gangly limbs and torso. A heartbroken apology as Tubbo wheezes his last breath._

“He killed me,” Tubbo whispers, dropping his hands from Tommy’s face, eyes wide yet not seeing. 

“What?” Who asked the question doesn't register, as flashes of pain burst through his chest. He clutches to the front of his shirt, trying to breathe through the sword that used to be there. 

“He’s the one who killed me.”

It’s silent for a bit as the information sinks into them. 

“What the fuck?! Why?!” Tommy exclaims.

“Who the fuck is Ranboo?” Schlatt calls out at the same time. 

Tubbo doesn’t know where to start. 

-

The ride back to the house is silent, stifling as if walking through still water. Ranboo flinches at every broken stick, Phil looks ready to collapse, Techno can’t feel his legs. 

The voices are mumbling, a faint buzzing of sadness in the back of his mind. He’s almost thankful for the buzz in the bleak quiet. 

It’s only until the house comes into view that his heart rate picks up again. Until he steps by muddied snow where he had found Tubbo, until he remembers the blood stains that seeped into the wood of his house. 

_This will always be where he took his last breath._

He had carried death on his shoulder all his life, as it asked for blood, as it craved pain. He realized then how everything around him reeks of it now. How he will never be able to get away. He throws a look at his dad, urgent and obvious but Ranboo was too in his head to notice anyways, who only nods and lets Techno into the house first. 

They had done their best to clean, to erase all the bloody traces Tubbo had left. Still it was more on the sloppy side as his hands had been shaking too much to do any real good. So he heaves a rug from its usual place in the living room over the grim reminder on his floor and pretends it’s always been there. 

Ranboo says nothing of it when he walks inside. Says nothing as Techno eases him onto his own bed, not wanting to risk an episode if let into the room he and Tubbo used to share. Says nothing as they slowly remove his dirty clothes, replacing it with warm ones. Techno almost smiles at the way the sleeves barely reach his wrists, thinking about how it would dwarf Tubbo’s frame. 

“Stay with him,” he mumbles in passing to his father, who doesn't reply but moves to sit at the foot of the bed, watching Ranboo stare at the ceiling, watching his chest rise and fall. Techno is sure he is counting and matching his breaths with Ranboo’s own.

He leaves them then, back to the blistering cold, to finish the job, next to Tommy’s grave.

Techno starts digging. 

-

“Why would he do that Tubbo? I thought he was cool! Annoyingly tall but we all have flaws- well except me I don't have any but besides the point, why the fuck would he just straight up murder you?” Tommy rambles, hands flying and eyes shocked as he surely goes through every conversation he’d ever had with Ranboo. 

“I don't know,” Is all Tubbo can answer, because he doesn't know, or understand, just why the hell he died. 

“It makes no sense is all,” Tommy continues, squinting and rubbing his chin, Tubbo smiles at the action. “I mean, the only person with a real vendetta against you right now is-” Tommy stops abruptly, frozen in his gestures as his brain catches up. 

“Dream,” Wilbur fills in. “Dream wants you two dead.”

“But Dream’s in prison how could h-” Tubbo starts but stops as Tommy’s shoulders start to shake slightly, 

“He’s a determined bastard, he’d find a way,” Schlatt pitches in and Tommy looks close to murdering the ghost again. 

Tubbo’s finger’s tap against each other as memories of Ramboo flood his head, trying to find anything in it that could’ve foretold his death. 

But there’s nothing. No malice, no evil, nothing even remotely Dream tinted in his memories of his friend. Only happiness, only joy, comfort and care. It doesn’t make sense. 

“It just doesn't make sense,” Tommy echoes his thoughts and Tubbo can only nod. “And when shit doesn't make sense it's usually Dream’s fault.” Tommy finishes, almost self satisfied and Tubbo laughs. 

“You can't just blame everything on Dream.” Schlatt says and Tommy scoffs.

“I absolutely can.Everything is literally his fault, literally everything Schlatt! Sometimes I trip and curse Dream because somehow he’s at fault for it, he’s pure evil and fucking crazy on top of that. It almost makes me miss you, you know? At least you two were a familiar crazy. Dream is a different level of psycho, he really feels the need to outdo everyone at everything like ever heard of just chilli-” Tommy’s ranting cut short as Tommy wheezed, hand grasping his chest, face twisted in pain he should no longer feel. Tubbo’s laughter at his speech stopped as he saw it, reaching out to grasp Tommy as he collapsed against him.

He felt warmer in Tubbo’s arms. In a way he shouldnt be anymore. 

“Tommy?” He asked, worried as Tommy’s fingers twisted in his shirt. Wilbur is at his side, hands braced on Tommy’s shoulder.

“Tom? What's wrong?” Wilbur asks, bending down to run his fingers through Tommy’s hair. Tommy raises his head, alarmed and near terrified.  
  
His eyes are striking blue. Like a clear sky. Like lightning in the night. 

_Alive_. 

“Oh Tommy,” Wilbur gasps as Tommy chokes on a cry, reaching one hand to dig into the collar of Wilbur’s coat.

“What’s happening to me?” He gasped out, voice small and teary. Tubbo presses his fingers against Tommy’s chest, feeling warmth bloom beneath his fingers, watching the color of his skin burst to the front, feeling the beating of a heart beneath his palm. 

“You’re alive Tommy,” he whispers. Watching his blonde hair turn to gold again, watching pink stain across his eyes and cheeks. Tubbo smiles, breathless as he watches, “Alive.”

Tommy shakes his head, pure fear in his brilliant eyes. “No it can't be true, he was lying, he had to be lying please,” He turns to Wilbur, wild, aching. Wilbur only gives him a somber smile. 

“I told you” Wilbur whispers, softly with sadness. “You’re here too early.”

Tommy’s eyes water, red ringed and _living_ . Tubbo butts his head against his shoulder, sniffling as Tommy only grows hotter around him, as his heart race increases beneath his hands. “No, no. Please no. I don’t- I dont want to go Wil please!” He begs and cries and Tubbo can only hold on as Wilbur shakes his head softly, carding his fingers through Tommy’s hair, leaving strands stained _blue._

“You have to go back Tommy, it’s okay,” Wilbur coos, Tommy trembles as his body comes to terms with the fact that he's very much in the wrong place. “It’s okay, you’ll be okay.”

“It’s alright Tommy,” Tubbo tries to pitch in but Tommy turns to him with tears in his eyes. 

“No no. Not without you, Tubbo not without you,” He sobs and Tubbo holds him, shaking his head as he stares as his translucent limbs around Tommy. “Not without you.” 

Tubbo sniffles, watches Tommy glow. 

“I'm always with you Tommy,” He smiles, gummy and dripping with goodbye. 

Tommy shakes his head again, breathing, knowing he doesn't have much time left. Tubbo listens to the sound of his breathing, the sound of being alive, of _Tommy._ It's a beautiful sound. Tubbo smiles as Tommy raises his head to look at him, eyes flaming in a too familiar way. It makes Tubbo feel alive, it always has. 

“I’ll bring you back,” Tommy states, firm and unshaking despite the tears that run down his face. “I'll bring you back Tubbo I promise.”

Tubbo laughs, happy and free, nods and buries his head in the heat of Tommy’s flesh and blood body. He holds him tight, focuses enough to pretend that his skin heats the same way, that his blood still rushes, that his heart still beats. 

“Okay Tommy,” he whispers. Tommy gives him a broken laugh.

“I will Tubbo.”

“I know.”

Tommy smiles then, glows and glows, Tubbo has to squint to look at him. 

“See you soon then, Tommy.” He says as Tommy burns brighter than the sun, Tubbo want to feel the sting on his skin when Tommy grins at him. 

“See you soon.”

All at once he’s gone. All his warmth with him. Tubbo taps his fingertips to his palms, trying to memorize the feeling of Tommy in them. He leans against WIlbur’s side, who sags and sighs.

Wilbur is cold next to him.

Tubbo thinks of snow. 

-

_Inside Pandora’s Box there’s laughter, unrestrained pure joy. The Warden listens, to a voice he once thought gone. He holds a child in his arms, cries in the bliss of relief. Dream is still smiling. Tommy is living. A raven sits outside the prison walls._

-

Techno is familiar with ghosts. It’s not a fact he’s all that proud of but he knows a ghost when he sees one. Enough to know that when he opens the door to see Tommy standing there he knows, it’s _him._

Alive and breathing and standing on top of the floorboards Tubbo bled out on. 

Tommy looks worn, ragged and beaten, with greening bruises on his face and neck. Sunken in eyes and fingers of death still lingering around him. It’s a breathtaking sight. He crushes Tommy against his chest before Tommy can even open his mouth.

There’s a groan of complaints that Techno doesn’t care for. Holding his brother in his arms, seeing him again after burying him. He doesn't want to stop to think about it, to ask how, to question why. Too afraid that he’s in a vivid dream and not reality.

Tommy hands wrap around him gingerly and Techno knows he’s awake. He plants a kiss at the top of Tommy’s head, rubbing his face against blonde strands that he’s missed. 

“Are you not even gonna ask how I’m even here right now?” Tommy’s muffled voice comes through and Techno huffs.

“I don’t really care right now but we can talk about it later,” he replies and rolls his eyes at the sigh that he gets. “We _are_ talking about this Tommy.” 

Tommy nods, resigned and annoyed and so vibrant for someone who was just recently dead. 

“I wanna see dad,” is the next whispered request and Techno nods, removing himself from Tommy who cringes yet reaches for Techno’s hand when he turns around. 

There’s streaks of blue in his hair. Techno is too tired to talk about that. 

It’s when he’s opening the door to the bedroom that his worry about Tommy’s reaction to Tubbo sinks in. Having been too preoccupied earlier to really think things through. Tommy doesn’t give him the chance to sputter, as he nearly throws himself on top of his fathers sleeping form, jostling Ranboo next to him, who nearly dies from shock. Techno lowers a hand to the top of his head, reassuring and grounding. 

“Tommy?” Ranboo’s groggy voice trembles. He only gets a stifled sob in return as Tommy tries to physically climb into his father’s arms, who is still shell shocked at the body in his bed. 

“Tom?” Phil’s voice breaks, as he slowly reaches around his son's body, feeling him shake and cry and _live._ “Tom? How?” and Tommy shakes his head and only sinks deeper into the space in the bed.

“Not right now please,” Tommy whispers and Phil hushes his cries with a soothing hand in his hair, Ranboo is still staring at them. “I’ll tell you all later just, please.” 

“Okay Tommy, that’s okay,” Phil says and it barely sounds believable to his ears but he isn’t going to push his son that he just got back. Tommy raises his head slightly, looking toward Ranboo for the first time, who freezes in the acknowledgement. Tommy stares at him for a long time.

“Was it Dream?” the question builds the tension in an instant. The room stills, Ranboo doesn’t breathe. Tommy doesn’t look away. Watching the way Ranboo’s face twists in guilt and pain, the way Techno clutches onto his shoulder in support, the way his father grips him closer to his body. 

There’s only grief in Ranboo’s eyes, pure and desolate. It mirrors Tommy’s own eyes. 

“Me too,” Tommy answers his own question. Letting the implication settle in the room. 

“We really have to kill that guy,” Techno says, after a long beat of silence, that wasn’t so silent to him as the voices buzzed and buzzed louder. 

Tommy snorts and Ranboo sags back into the bed, flinching slightly as Techno settles around them. Ranboo and Tommy in between them, Phil staring down at Tommy in awe. Brushing his fingers through his hair, down the slope of his ear and cheeks, to the tip of his nose and eyebrows, watching the way Tommy’s face wrinkles and scrunches beneath him.

It’s quiet for a bit, the dusk settling around them. Techno is mostly asleep, exhaustion finally catching up to him. 

Ranboo tenses slightly as nimble fingers trace on top of his left hand. He looks down to see Tommy, tapping against the ring on his hand. Gaze far away and foggy. Ranboo doesn’t know what to say, watching as his chest tightens. 

“He’s not mad at you,” Tommy whispers and Ranboo could cry if he had the energy so he just sucks in a breath instead. 

“We’ll bring him back,” Tommy finishes, one last trace to the ring, before squeezing his hand slightly, palm warm in his grip. Ranboo wants to cry, to scream and run. But Tommy holds on, Ranboo grips back, nodding once. 

Holding onto to Tommy’s hand Ranboo dares to delve into memories untouched. A tether of something real, a remnant of friendship ripped from him to early. He thinks of soft brown eyes and softer smiles, home in such a small body compared to him. He thinks of Tubbo as Tommy yawns next to him, alive and burning. 

The memories are kind. As Tubbo always was. Traces the stream of them into Tommy’s palm. 

A quiet remembrance.

-

_Outside a lonely ghost watches the snow fall on a fresh grave._

_He waits as a compass twirls._

_He waits with his memories_

_of a warmth he calls_

_home._

**Author's Note:**

> it’s my birthday today, and i’m posting this lmao. priorities. 
> 
> Originally i was working on a dreamxd fic then got stuck on the world building so like, idk be on the look out for that lol. 
> 
> Anyways hope ya liked. Take care! 
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Zoldyke_)


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